


birdy

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cute, Dad Harry, Domestic, Family, Fluff, Kidfic, London, single dad Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry finishes off a 3-day weekend in New York with some much-needed time with his daughter in London.





	birdy

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if you got two e-mail notifs for this! xx

He was the kind of tired that only occurred on planes.

 

After falling asleep in his seat and being in the same position for over three hours, the crick in his back had returned. He hadn’t eaten real food all day - he’d used the hotel gym that morning and only had time for a quick coffee and banana on the go as he’d a few last minute meetings to finish up with before his flight. After spending three days in New York finalizing his album plans, Harry was a bit emotional, but thoroughly excited. At the moment, though, he needed a good shower, meal, and sleep. It had been a long weekend, but successful, and he was optimistic for his future. It was only two in the afternoon London time and he desperately needed a long sleep. And, judging by the tug in his lower back that made him groan when he lifted up his bag, a massage couldn’t hurt either. A shave, too, he reasoned, rubbing underneath his chin. He’d been breaking out the past few days from stress and a lack of nutritional meals, and being at his age and still getting acne perturbed him quite a bit. He needed a good self-care day. No more running around and making meetings and barely sleeping, not while he was home. He was always thankful to be doing what he loved, but he needed to put himself first sometimes, he knew that. Work was fun, doing music was fun, but it was also...work. He was looking forward to a few weeks of doing laundry, grocery shopping, visiting his family, getting up early and going to the gym and not feeling bad about taking naps and resting up. He really liked having time off to just be.

 

When the plane finally touched down in London, Harry’s heart soared. He was home, finally home. There was something different about the air in London compared to New York. Harry pulled on his usual grey Randy’s Donuts sweatshirt to protect himself from the eventual steady blast of air conditioning that airports loved no matter the temperature outside, carefully putting his leather bag over his shoulder as well. The sweatshirt provided comfort and also hid him easily enough from any prying eyes that wanted to snap a photograph. Harry wasn’t a cranky guy, but traveling and moving around so much drained the man, especially because he was tired and sore to begin with before the plane had even taken off. He had on a comfy pair of joggers and running sneakers, trying to stay as casual and unnoticed as possible as he was hurrying home.

 

He huffed out a breath as he slid into the buttery seat of the town car that was there to bring him home, rain beginning to fall. It wasn’t London without some rain. It was a good day to lay in bed to watch movies, he thought to himself. A good stew day, too. A romantic comedy, his mother’s stew with crusty bread, and his big cozy bed sounded the most inviting. Harry looked away from the rainy, dreary day outside to fumble a text to his sister that he had arrived, placing a hand on his lower back and grimacing. He’d have to ring his physical therapist today, too, and his mother. He knew Anne was anxious to see him since he was away.

 

It was all worth it, however, the achy back and rain and hunger and the headache blooming behind his eyes, when he stepped through the door of his home. A twenty seven pound bundle of curls and dimples that looked just like him launched herself into his chest as soon as the door opened. His arms were ready to catch her as he stood, twirling the girl around and tucking his face into her shoulder. There was no better smell than his daughter after a bath, absolutely nothing in the world compared. Especially after he hadn’t seen said daughter in _three days_.

 

Being a single father while also juggling fame was difficult, but Harry never complained. He absolutely loved making music and acting, but he loved being a father more. Rose was his entire world, and he would never let work interfere with her, ever. He was lucky enough to have his sister and mother and select friends that adored his daughter (almost) as much as he did who could look after her when he was away. It was never easy, and while this was the longest he’d been away from her for her entire life, and he worried constantly, he was grateful that he was able to live both lives and keep them separated. Although Rose was only three, she seemed to begin to understand that her dad was some sort of Important Person, and that sometimes she had to share him with others, which was a difficult concept for her to wrap her mind around - Harry was _her’s_. He tucked her in at night and helped her do her hair in the morning, made her lunch and told her he loved her - he didn’t do that with anyone else. Harry knew the importance of bonding with your child as a single parent, and he refused to be one of those celebrities who simply sent their children off with the nanny while he kept his career afloat. He wanted to do this, and do it right. In this day and age, now that FaceTime and text updates from Gemma reading _Rose is asleep, wanted me to tell you she loves you_ , and _All is well, just came back from the shops. Baby girl’s got a new set of markers; time to destroy all the white walls in your house_ were helpful (except when Gemma was being sarcastic with messing up his stuff), but it was nothing like actually being there, home, where he should be. It was hard being away from her, harder every day that he was missing making her breakfast and running his fingers through her hair when she couldn’t sleep. He was missing kissing her scrapes on her knees if she fell and the smell of her soft skin after a bath. Harry was always adamant on never mixing up work life and personal life, and his daughter’s needs always came first. She was the very most important person to him, and he’d never put anything - or anyone - before her.

 

So, being able to hold her now, after three whole days, was heaven. Ignoring his back protesting against him, he stood to his full height, swaying her a little. Rose had his curls, dimples, and cheeky grin. She was a little chubby around the middle - “Just like her Daddy,” his sister Gemma liked to say, to which Harry groaned - and she had little legs and hands that perfectly wrapped around Harry when he held her or kissed her goodnight or told her he loved her. (And yes, Harry refused to admit he gained Dad Weight, even though it _was_ only a few pounds. He refused.)

 

“Hi, Birdy,” he whispered, tucking his head into Rose’s shoulder. _Birdy_ was a name his own mother had called him when he was young, and it had simply started rolling off his tongue as his daughter grew. It was a simple, peaceful name for his girl. Harry could feel her heart beating through their clothing, her tiny hands gripping his sweatshirt. “I missed you so much.”

 

Although there was absolutely no reason for her not to be, coming home to his baby safe and happy and in one piece was enough for him. He constantly worried about her even when they were in the same room, cuddling on the sofa with her small body curled into his chest as they watched telly on a normal Wednesday evening. She never had any health problems thankfully, and she was the happiest, most loved girl in the world. Harry knew Gemma would never let anything happen to his girl, but being a father changed him. He wasn’t just looking out for himself anymore.

 

“Hi, Daddy,” she said. Harry allowed Rose put her small hands on either side of his face, nuzzling their noses together as she pressed kisses to his cheekbones and forehead, giggling at the familiar scruff on Harry’s cheeks against her baby-soft skin.

 

“You gotta shave, Daddy,” she giggled, tiny fingers holding Harry’s cheeks. Gemma, who was reading a magazine quietly on the sofa, removed herself from the room for a few moments. It was an intimate, private moment between father and daughter, and she didn’t want to get in the way, especially since the two hadn’t interacted person-to-person in days.

 

“Do I?” Harry raised his eyebrows, mouth opening in surprise, jostling her slightly, one strong arm around her back and the other secure around her bum so that she stayed put in his arms. “You don’t like your Daddy with a beard?”

 

“Uh-uh,” Rose shook her head. Harry placed his bag on the floor in the corner of the room, holding her more firmly in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, setting his girl down on her feet. Gemma joined the two of them, leaning in to give her brother a hug. Harry kissed her cheek, smoothing his hand carefully over Rose’s head as she clung to her father’s leg. Usually, after Harry was away, she tended to hover close by to him for a few hours as if he was going to disappear again, and Harry would never tell her to stop.

 

“What d’you say to Gem, little lady? Was she good to you? Were you a good girl for her?”

 

“Of course she was,” Gemma grinned. She got on her knees, reaching to hug Rose. The little girl reluctantly let go of her dad, squeezing her arms around Gemma’s neck before turning back to Harry, as if she was afraid he would disappear again. Rose couldn’t quite understand the feeling of safety she felt constantly with the people Harry surrounded her with, but it was a different kind of safety when her dad was home, his eyes and ears and arms all for his girl. She was happiest when she was with her father. (She didn’t know this, but he felt exactly the same way.)

 

“Thank you, Gems, love you,” Rose said, giggling when Gemma peppered kisses to her tiny cheeks, smacking the last one on her tiny lips.

 

“Love you, sweet girl. Glad we got to have some girls’ time without stinky old Dad.” Gemma stood up, shaking out her long, ombre hair. She scrunched her nose at Harry, squeezing his hand before he could reprimand her.

 

“Thanks again, Gem,” Harry said, squeezing her fingers in response. The two of them watched her go down the pathway and drive off, Rose with her thumb half in her mouth, her other hand loosely wrapped around Harry’s wrist as she stared absentmindedly at the falling raindrops on the little stained glass window pane above the door. Harry looked down after he closed the door, wincing slightly - Gemma and his mother had both noticed Rose sucking on her thumb when Harry was away, assuming it was how she comforted herself in the absence of her father. Hopefully, since he was home for a few months, the habit would go away.

 

Harry leaned down to scoop up his daughter again, ignoring the ache of his back that was screaming at him. She immediately latched onto him, her head happily resting on his shoulder, tiny hands pat pat patting into his upper back as he walked into the kitchen. It had started to really rain now, loud heavy droplets hitting the big windows of the kitchen, the sky clouding over to a deep grey. Gemma had cracked a few windows open, so the fresh smell of summer rain filled his home. Harry loved having big windows and fresh air filtering in and out, even if said air was damp most of the time. There was nothing more peaceful to him than being home during a rainstorm, especially with his daughter. Harry set her down carefully on the countertop, kissing her nose and then turning to the fridge, and cursing very silently to himself - it was nearly empty. He’d forgotten to ask Gemma to pick up milk and some essentials before he returned home. She usually did it without asking, and he always paid her back for it. Even though she had told him she was the one eating his food while he was away, so it was no matter. Harry winced. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go out in the rain to food shop, even if his back wasn’t aching or he wasn’t bloody exhausted. Harry turned to look at his daughter, putting his hands on his hips. He snorted when Rose did the same, tilting her head at him with a goofy grin as she placed her own tiny hands on tiny hips. She gasped in excitement, then, as if she realized that Harry was officially home and ready to spend time with her - and then her excited words started spurting out.

 

“Wanna see my new paints, Daddy? Gem let me do finger painting yesterday; and we took a walk to the stream, Daddy, and she let me go in with my new wellies, only a little bit, can we go there now?”

 

“How about,” Harry said, pressing kisses to her forehead between every pause. “Daddy orders. Fish and chips. And you put on your pajamas. And we can watch a film and you tell me all I missed while I was away? That sound good?”

 

He had laundry to do, calls to make and a journal to look over. His inbox was probably full of emails and notes from the weekend that he needed to think about, and he should probably consider calling his physical therapist sooner than later.

 

But, he had a little girl with expectant eyes that looked too much like his own staring up at him, and tiny hands that were encompassed in his own. While she scampered up the stairs to put on her pajamas and spend some quality time with her father, he made quick work of dumping most of his clothes into the laundry machine, plugging in his laptop and phone on the kitchen counter. He dialed the number of the takeaway shop, humming quietly with a tired yawn. After ordering, he waited to hear the light padding of bare feet hurrying down the stairs. Harry smiled softly to himself, thumbing out a text to his mother before leaving his phone on silent on the kitchen counter, leaving all distractions behind.

 

“I’m ready, Dad! Ready!” a tiny voice exclaimed. Harry gasped out a laugh at what stood before him. Rose had on his old Rolling Stones t-shirt that he'd left at home for her, the fabric barely hitting below her knees. She had one of her old teddies clutched in one arm, her braid loosened by her haste to get undressed and back down to her father.

 

“Hey, c’mere,” Harry said softly, getting on his knees. He opened up his arms for Rose to cuddle into him, the little girl curling into his chest as Harry took her hair down, running his fingers through her loose curls. The house was quiet and calm, and his daughter smelled like clean soap and she was baby soft skin and gentle kisses and hugs and _I love you's_  and _home_. She was home, safe, healthy, and happy, and so was he. His e-mails and voicemail box could wait until tomorrow, because tonight was about spending time with his daughter, his best friend and entire world.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated xx


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